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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24252874">Torono Town Massacre</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/misCOWculation/pseuds/misCOWculation'>misCOWculation</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Torture, Body Horror, Cannibalism, Cannibalistic Thoughts, Dark, Disturbing Themes, FNAF inspired lmao bruh, Graphic Description, Grimdark, Horror, M/M, Murder, Serial Killers, Small Towns, Torture, Violence, Vomiting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 21:40:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,463</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24252874</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/misCOWculation/pseuds/misCOWculation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After learning about the bloody history of Torono Town, Kuroo Tetsurou explores the ruins for himself. </p><p>But upon his return, the cravings begin.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Torono Town Massacre</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Warning: Heavy gore, cannibalism, graphic depictions of violence and child-killing in an inhumane way. Read at your own discretion. Also, a reminder that this does not reflect on me as a person and to please separate the author and the work istg ;-;</p><p>I feel like I have to apologize in advance for making this, so I'm sorry :')</p><p>Inspired by FNAF, ironically. I was in high school when that game came out, so it didn't really leave much of an impression on me. But with the emergence of the 'Man Behind the Slaughter' memes, I came across the song and it was a freakin' BOP.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Golden afternoon sunlight spotted the pavement. There was a gentle breeze in the air, but he felt none of it as he sat in the clinic's waiting room, wide eyes gazing outside. He swung his legs back and forth, eyebrow twitching each time the clock above the receptionist's desk ticked. On the opposite side of the road, he could see a man bellow in laughter as he spoke with his customer. He wore a pink-stained apron over his shirt, which barely contained his belly. His eyes were small and piggy, but his mouth was open with joy.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He looked away from the scene and at the receptionist, gauging her dull facial expression; her eyes were fixed on her computer. Then he slid out of his seat and left the clinic. Because he was a good and sensible boy, he looked both ways before crossing.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The man was taller up close.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He glanced up at his broad face, then at the sausage samples the man was holding, a toothpick sticking out of each cut.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Hello, young man," said the butcher, smiling. "Would you like to try some?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The boy looked down at his feet, hesitating. Then he peered back up again, at the man's wide, smiling face. "What flavor is it, sir?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>At that, the man lifted a gloved hand to his mouth in a shushing motion. "It's a secret. An old family recipe."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The caramelized sausage slices tempted his appetite. The boy had not eaten since early morning, and his stomach pleaded with him. So, finally, he let down his walls and picked up a slice. "Okay."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>His eyes widened as the meat dropped heavily on his tongue, an explosion of flavor making him stiffen. Never before in his life had he tasted something so luxurious, so flavorsome and taunting in every voluptuous edge. He swallowed, his entire body shaking. "Can," he breathed, "Can I have another?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The butcher nodded, holding out the tray.</em>
</p><p><em>Breath shallow, the boy ate them all, greedily shoving each and every delicacy down his throat. It was so smooth—</em>so buttery and elegant<em>—that it sent trembles and warmth throughout his entire body.</em></p><p>
  <em>The butcher turned around, retreating back into his store.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Wait!" called the boy, feeling his heart sink. "Where are you going?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The man let out a belly-deep laugh. "You've eaten them all, my boy!"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Please, sir," begged the boy. "Do you have any more?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"As a matter of fact, I do..." His grin grew wider and wider, and the boy's stomach grew hungrier and hungrier. The butcher held the door for him. "Why don't you come inside?"</em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>June, 2018</strong>
</p><p>It was the lull of the ceiling fan that he awoke to. Yawning, Kuroo Tetsurou stretched, draped across the couch like a long, languid cat in his pajamas. He groaned—there was a crick in his neck. Mouth gaping in another yawn, he palmed the coffee table in front of the sofa, reaching for his spectacles. Once they were on his face, he smacked his lips and looked around—it was a peaceful afternoon in Tokyo, and he had a cup of cold coffee waiting for him on the table.</p><p>"Kuro." Kozume Kenma appeared around the corner, from the hallway that led to their shared sleeping space. He was wearing one of Kuroo's sweaters, and it hung on his frame. "You're finally awake."</p><p>Immediately, Kuroo smiled. "Kenma! I thought you were doing a twenty-four hour live-stream. What happened to that?"</p><p>"I'm starting with twelve-hour ones," Kenma replied. The blond ends of his hair were split, and the roots oily. "I'm gonna go take a shower."</p><p>Kuroo sat up. "What a coincidence, me too."</p><p>A snort. "Some coincidence."</p><p>The day passed blissfully. Before Kuroo knew it, they were sitting around the coffee table with their dinners. They didn't have a television, so they used one of Kenma's laptops to stream a few comedy shows.</p><p>"You're always so cold," Kuroo murmured into Kenma's shoulder, the younger man stiffening slightly at the feel of Kuroo's breath next to his ear. But he quickly eased into him. Kuroo twisted his head around, searching for the blanket. He found it then, and wrapped the both of them in it. "Alright!" Kuroo scrolled down their recommendations. "Who's up for a little true crime documentary? It's me, by the way."</p><p>"Again?" sighed Kenma, snuggling against him. "How do you even fall asleep at night?"</p><p>"With little difficulty."</p><p>"Let's see," Kuroo mumbled. "We've seen this one, and this one, and this one... Ah, hey! This is a new one. '<em>The Torono Town Massacre'</em>." Next to him, Kenma stilled. Kuroo turned to him, smirking. "Scared?"</p><p>"It's gruesome," Kenma told him. "I didn't think people would be brave enough to make a show about it."</p><p>"Sounds interesting." Kuroo clicked on it. "Don't worry," he pecked Kenma's pale cheek, his skin like ice beneath his lips, "I'll protect you."</p><p>Kenma said nothing, merely frowning.</p><hr/><p><em>Tsukishima Kei walked with his hands shoved the pockets of his hoodie. It was a Friday, a little past three o'clock in the afternoon. Inwardly, he debated with himself</em>—<em>whether or not it was worth the effort to set his bag down on the seesaw in the playground he would soon pass and get out his MP3 player and listen to some Beatles classics.</em></p><p>
  <em>School had been boring, as usual.</em>
</p><p>Honestly<em>, he thought, </em>What's even the point of cooking lessons?</p><p>
  <em>They'd baked cookies in period six today.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Third grade truly was a bore to Tsukishima, and the rest of the day was looking to be just as boring.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Until he finally reached the playground.</em>
</p><p><em>There were some kids by the seesaw</em>—<em>two boys standing over a smaller, freckle-faced boy.</em></p><p><em>Tsukishima clicked his tongue. </em>How pathetic of them<em>.</em></p><p>
  <em>He was going to keep going on his way when one of the bullies turned around and spotted him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"What're you looking at?!"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Wait," the other bully whispered loudly to his accomplice, "Is that a sixth grader?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"No, he's that kid from Class 3."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tsukishima stared at them. Then he smirked. "So laaame."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It was hilarious, really, watching them gaze at him blankly as their brains tried to process what he had just said to them.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Huh?! Who're you calling lame?!" one finally spluttered just as Tsukishima was walking away. He marched up to him and grabbed his shoulder. "Hey! Come back here!"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Instantly, Tsukishima turned, glaring down at the shorter boy. "What."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Uh, um..." The bully backed away, trying his best to return the glare. "Y-your glasses look stupid!" Tsukishima actually laughed out loud at the pathetic insult. "A-and you look stupid, too!"</em>
</p><p><em>In a way, Tsukishima thought he was unstoppable. Watching those bullies run away, having been chased off with barely any effort on his part... He wouldn't lie</em>—<em>it filled him with a vindictive pleasure. Not bothering to check on the victim, Tsukishima made to continue on his way.</em></p><p>
  <em>"W-wait!"</em>
</p><p>Again? What a bother<em>.</em></p><p>
  <em>"I'm Yamaguchi... Yamaguchi Tadashi. T-thanks for helping me!" the freckle-faced boy stammered, looking as if he were bracing himself for reaction.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tsukishima scoffed. "Whatever."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He didn't know what he had been expecting. Maybe for Yamaguchi to cry, or yell, or run away. But having the shorter boy follow him throughout town was not an option he had considered.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Look," Tsukishima said eventually, exasperated. "Don't you have somewhere else to be right now?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>To his dismay, Yamaguchi shook his head. "Nope. My mom said to buy groceries after school."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Oh, great." His mom had told him the same thing.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>As they walked through town, Tsukishima begrudgingly putting up with Yamaguchi's presence, they both caught a whiff of meat sizzling on a grill. Yamaguchi blinked, seemingly taken aback at how good it smelled.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tsukishima had stilled, too, poking his nose up in the air to try and smell more of the delightful scent. It made his heart race and his stomach churn. Looking down at his palms, he found that they were clammy. What was going on?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Then Yamaguchi's stomach growled. The boy winced. "They stole my lunch at school," he told Tsukishima by way of explanation.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Of course they did." Tsukishima rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'm a little hungry, too, I guess."</em>
</p><p><em>Together, they traced the origin of the smell</em>—<em>sausages being grilled by a butcher. He wore a smile on his face as he cooked the meat. Tsukishima peered up at the store sign. It seemed brand new.</em></p><p>
  <em>The butcher perked up when he saw them. He lifted up one huge arm, waving them over.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Shyly, Yamaguchi approached him, Tsukishima not far behind.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He held out a small tray to them, the metal dotted by small cuts of sausage.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Eagerly, Yamaguchi took one and popped it in his mouth.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tsukishima's brows rose as he observed the other boy's reaction.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Delicious!" Yamaguchi exclaimed, breaking out of his initial shyness to eat more.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Oi," said Tsukishima, "Don't eat all of them..."</em>
</p><p><em>Either Yamaguchi didn't hear him or he didn't care. All he did was eat, and eat, and eat</em>—</p><p>
  <em>The butcher chuckled, pulling the tray away when Yamaguchi tried to eat his twelfth sausage. "That's enough, now." He held the tray of goods toward Tsukishima. "Let your friend try some instead."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tsukishima gave it a skeptical look, even when his stomach grumbled and saliva pooled in his mouth. "Fine," he said, taking a slice. "Thanks for the food." The moment the sausage entered his mouth, he understood. Understood why Yamaguchi only wanted to eat more and more. Never before in his life had Tsukishima tasted something so utterly delicious.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"C-can," Tsukishima almost choked on the words, "Can I have more?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Help yourselves, boys."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>So they did, devouring the sausages like it was their last meal. Before they knew it, they had finished the butcher's entire batch.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Aww," Yamaguchi whined. "There's no more..." He twitched. "I... I need to eat more!"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Unable to word his desires, Tsukishima simply pressed his lips together and nodded vigorously.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Tell ya what," the butcher said to the two of them, opening the door to his butchery. "Why don't you kids come inside? I got more in the back room,</em>
  <em>" he pointed at the door which had a 'staff only' sign on it, "I'll let you wait in there. I can see old Himekawa-san coming over to buy my beef mince."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Yamaguchi and Tsukishima dashed inside, wrenching open the door of the back room. Boxes lined the shelves; in front of them was a set of stairs leading further down.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>They exchanged a glance.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And went downstairs.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It was cold inside.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tsukishima's teeth chattered as he hugged himself, the chilly air penetrating the material of his hoodie easily. Yamaguchi didn't seem to be doing very well either, despite pulling the hood of his sweater over his head.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"It's so dark in here," Tsukishima muttered, his head starting to pound. He felt oddly groggy. "Oi, Yamaguchi, right? Let's try and find a light switch."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"O-okay, um..."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Tsukishima Kei."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>His name must have been too long or something, because Yamaguchi asked, "Can I call you Tsukki?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tsukishima found the light switch just as he said, "You..." He trailed off, his glasses slipping down his nose a little as he the lights flickered on. Then, promptly, he threw up all over the floor, almost tipping forward into his own puddle of vomit.</em>
</p><p><em>"Tsukki!" cried Yamaguchi, running over him. "What's wrong?!" Then he felt it</em>—<em>something slick and slimy dripping down the back of his neck. Horrified, Yamaguchi peered upward to see someone's pink torso hanging from the low ceiling.</em></p><p>
  <em>"Why did we come here?" Tsukishima rasped, grabbing both sides of his head. "What the hell... What the hell?!"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"The sausages, remember?!" Yamaguchi laughed, almost hysterical. "Don't you remember, Tsukki?! Look."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And Tsukishima almost threw up again when Yamaguchi sifted through the puddle of vomit with his bare hands and fished out bits and pieces of meat. "What's wrong with you?!" he shouted, slapping Yamaguchi's hands aside. The little bits of meat bounced across the floor. "Hey, hey! Yamaguchi, right?! Look at me! Stop looking at those!"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Panic rising in his throat when Yamaguchi didn't listen, lumbering over to where the half-digested meat had landed, Tsukishima tackled him to the ground. It was the meat, Tsukishima thought wildly, The meat was making Yamaguchi like this. How and why, he didn't know, but he could take a guess.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Tsukki, lemme go! I'm... I'm so hungry!"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"We have to go!" Tsukishima urged him, tears welling up in his eyes. "Yamaguchi!"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Yamaguchi fought against him, trying to kick him off. "I'm hungry! I'm hungry!"</em>
</p><p>Just leave him<em>, a voice in his head whispered. </em>Save yourself<em>.</em></p><p>
  <em>Despising every fiber of his being, Tsukishima rolled off him and wobbled toward the stairs. He almost screamed when he bumped into a particularly low-hanging leg, and held the sleeve of his hoodie over his mouth to stop himself from puking again. Hastily, he climbed the metal steps, smiling widely when he got closer and closer to the upstairs room.</em>
</p><p>Almost... there...!</p><p>
  <em>Then a shadow appeared in front of him, and he slammed straight into what felt like iron, his glasses breaking on impact. Screaming, he clutched his face as the shards dug into his eyes, falling down the stairs like a rag doll. He hit the concrete ground sobbing and bleeding, both of his legs splayed at awkward angles. "HELP!" Tsukishima shrieked, almost biting his tongue. He tried opening his eyes, but he only reignited the fire burning around his face. "AKITERU! MOM!"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He felt breath touch his face.</em>
</p><p><em>Then teeth clamped around his ear and </em>tore<em>.</em></p><p>
  <em>Another scream ripped from his throat, and he punched frantically at the air, feeling one of his fists sink into a soft body.</em>
</p><p><em>Yamaguchi, he realized with no small amount of horror, blood caking his ear, Yamaguchi had </em>bit <em>him.</em></p><p>
  <em>The thud of footsteps slowly descending the steps reached his ears.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tsukishima Kei was supposed to be powerful. Tsukishima Kei had scared away two bullies without even lifting a finger. Tsukishima Kei wanted to go watch his brother's next match on Sunday.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tsukishima Kei didn't want to die.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He felt Yamaguchi's body on top of him again. Without wasting any time, Tsukishima sank his teeth into where he guessed Yamaguchi's nose was. Judging from the hard structure that gave way beneath his molars, and the yowl that tore from Yamaguchi's vocal chords, his estimation had been correct.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The stairs trembled one more time before the butcher arrived.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Yamaguchi pushed himself up, his nose beginning to swell as he scrambled toward the butcher. "Do you have them? The sausages?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"No," the butcher informed him, grabbing him and slamming him against a raised table. "But I will soon."</em>
</p><p><em>"Eh?" Yamaguchi began to laugh, the sound watery. "W-what are you</em>—<em>AHHHHHHHH!"</em></p><p><em>Tsukishima's broken body twitched as he caught a whiff of herbal tea before the sound of fresh screams echoed around the basement once more. Images flashed through his brain</em>—<em>images of a butcher with a boar's head pouring scalding hot tea down Yamaguchi's throat. Despite the lightning hot pain in and around his eyes, he began to cry, begging the gods above to save him from death, even if he hadn't always been good in his young life.</em></p><p>
  <em>Yamaguchi stopped screaming.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Then there was a thud. The thud of a cleaver against flesh.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Again, and again, and again.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The smell of piss and blood filled his nostrils, and he felt something warm and wet spray across his bloodied face.</em>
</p><p><em>Heavy footsteps stomped toward him. He picked Tsukishima up as if he were nothing more than a puppet with its strings cut. Strength that he might have had before from his desire to live was now gone</em>—<em>he couldn't even squirm when he felt something cold and metal press against his eye. His mouth opened in a soundless scream as he felt his own eye being scooped out, felt each muscle keeping his eyeball inside his skull tearing.</em></p><p>
  <em>"A delicacy," the butcher's voice rumbled close to his gnawed ear. "So soft, and jelly-like..." In one swift movement, he spooned out Tsukishima's other eye. "I'll put you to good use."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The last thing Tsukishima felt was a blunt blade slamming against his head.</em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>June, 2018</strong>
</p><p>Kuroo felt Kenma shift next to him as a blonde woman with her face blurred out appeared on the screen.</p><p><em>"I wish,"</em> the censored woman sobbed, burying her face into her hands. <em>"I wish I'd just told him to come home that day... No, not just that... We should've all left that cursed down when we could... They took my sons. My husband. My legs."</em></p><p>"Kuro," started Kenma. "I don't want to watch this anymore."</p><p>Kuroo paused the video. "It <em>is</em> pretty bad," he admitted. "Go to bed, Kenma. I'll turn in later—this is too good."</p><p>Kenma stood. "Alright. Goodnight, Kuro."</p><p>"'Night."</p><p>Kenma switched off the lights before he disappeared into the bedroom, knowing that Kuroo liked watching his true crime documentaries with maximum creep factor. "Don't stay up too late. Believe me, I'll <em>know</em>."</p><p>"Alright, <em>mom</em>."</p><p>Once Kenma was gone, Kuroo resumed the video.</p><hr/><p>
  <em>"I'm home!"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>When Yachi came home from her primary school's art club tonight, it was to a delicious smell. She took off her pigtails while toeing off her shoes at the entrance-way, entranced by the scent wafting through the apartment she shared with her mother.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Hitoka, welcome home," her mother smiled as she appeared at the doorway leading to the kitchen. "Dinner's almost ready. Why don't you go get changed?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Okay!"</em>
</p><p><em>Fifteen minutes later, Yachi was sitting down with her mother</em>—<em>Madoka</em>—<em>and staring down at the plate of sausages and mash. It wasn't their usual dinner, but it smelled absolutely mouth-watering. She couldn't wait to eat, her leg bouncing through prayers.</em></p><p>
  <em>Finally, she was allowed to eat.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Thanks for the food!" mother and daughter chorused.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Wow!" Yachi exclaimed, gaping at her plate of food after trying some sausage smeared with potato. "This is so good, mom! What is it?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I don't know," replied Madoka, grinning. "But it tastes nice, ey? I got it from the new butcher in town, Inoshi-san."</em>
</p><p>Inoshi-san... <em>Yachi shoved that name away in her mind, nodding. She knew exactly where Inoshi's place was. With an appetite she didn't know she had, she practically vacuumed up her dinner. Madoka was no better, even going so far as to wipe one finger across the plate to collect the meat-based gravy she had gotten from Inoshi. </em>I'll go there tomorrow<em>, she decided. She just </em>had <em>to have more of those delectable sausages</em>—<em>perhaps, if she was lucky, she would catch him serving sausage samples outside his shop.</em></p><p><em>The next day, at lunch time, almost everybody in class revealed their lunches to be the same sausages that Yachi had eaten last night. Astonished, she could only watch as her classmates promptly devoured their food with zero chatter</em>—<em>as if it were the only thing that mattered. Her grip tightened around her chopsticks as she smelled the meat, her stomach doing flip-flops. Turning around in her seat, she asked the girl sitting behind her, "Um, if it's not too much to ask..." She reached toward the lunch box. "Can I try some</em>—<em>"</em></p><p>
  <em>Yachi squealed when her classmate's teeth chomped around her fingers. Then the girl let out, eyes wide with shock at her own actions. "Yacchan," she stammered. "I... I didn't mean..."</em>
</p><p><em>"I-it's okay," Yachi hurriedly brushed the apology aside, staring at the lunch box filled with sausages. </em>I'm so hungry...</p><p><em>The girl returned to eating, while Yachi stared at her lunch</em>—<em>octopus balls with some tomato rice.</em></p><p><em>Gloomily, she picked at her food. It didn't look appetizing at all</em>—<em>she wanted some of last night's sausages, the same ones that the rest of her classmates were eating. Yachi glanced out the window, and the grey afternoon light flooding the classroom and stopping halfway across the floor. Outside, a crow cawed, its feathers ruffled.</em></p><p>
  <em>She couldn't hold it in anymore.</em>
</p><p><em>Wordlessly, Yachi packed up her lunch and exited the classroom. The teachers were nowhere to be seen</em>—<em>Yachi did hear them all talking over lunch, though, in the faculty room. With zero trouble, she left school grounds and headed straight to town.</em></p><p>
  <em>The cute key-chains on her backpack bounced as she skipped down the sidewalk, her eyes brightening when she saw Inoshi's butchery. The man himself was nowhere to be seen together. She stopped in front of the window display, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Then she pressed her face against the window, feeling saliva gather in her mouth as she stared at Inoshi's meat paradise.</em>
</p><p>But where's Inoshi-san? <em>Yachi wondered.</em></p><p>
  <em>She hesitated for the first time, gazing around her surroundings to check for people. There were none around. Everyone was still at work or school at this time. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open. A flood of smells assaulted her senses, and Yachi grinned. "Inoshi-san?" she called, scanning the place. She looked in every nook and cranny until she found herself in front of a door with the sign 'staff room' on it.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Yachi had always been a rule follower. She never got into trouble at school, and she never fought with her mom. So why was it that now...</em>
</p><p><em>Excitement crawled beneath her skin as she went inside. There was nothing but shelves with boxes on them</em>—<em>and the stairs. The metal stairs leading down to a basement. Yachi went down with a skip in her step, her pigtails bouncing up and down as she descended. The smell of blood grew stronger and stronger with each step she took</em>—<em>and she, Yachi, became hungrier and hungrier. Saliva dribbled down her mouth and pooled at her chin as she arrived, and she lifted a hand to wipe the drool away with her sleeve.</em></p><p>
  <em>Strapped to an angled table was a half-dead boy, his eyes rolled to the back of his head and almost unresponsive. And looming over the boy was a great, hulking shape.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The butcher turned just as Yachi touched one of the torsos hanging on the ceiling with wide eyes.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"You're just in time." His voice echoed throughout the chamber, sending chills down her spine. "To watch the harvest."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>That seemed to snap her out of her reverie. "M-m-mister," she trembled, fear overwhelming her desire, "I didn't mean to... I swear, I... I won't tell anyone..."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>His footfall heavy, the man approached her, stopping only when her fragile, dainty face was pressed against his belly. Then a giant hand clasped her tiny head, smearing blood all over her hair. "Are you hungry, little girl?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Yachi...</em>
</p><p><em>Yachi was </em>starving<em>.</em></p><p>
  <em>"I'll feed you," promised the butcher, smiling. "If you help me."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>His hand prodded her back, shoving her toward the trapped boy. Entranced, Yachi didn't even flinch when someone's hanging leg grazed her cheek, leaving behind a moist stain on her cheek.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The boy had to be her age. He had a bright shock of orange hair on his head, and his mouth was open in a silent scream. Yachi thought that she recognized him. Recognized him from missing posters plastered all over town, his face next to a blond boy's and a freckled boy's. "What do I do?" she whispered.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The butcher's filthy hand wrapped around hers, and she felt a light object being pushed into her hand. Glancing down, Yachi saw a scalpel.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"An incision," the butcher's finger traced down the boy's torso in a vertical motion. "Right here."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Yachi swallowed. "Won't it hurt?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"He won't feel a thing."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>With a shaking hand, Yachi pressed the blade of the scalpel against the soft, supple belly of the ginger boy. His flesh gave way to the knife like melting butter, and red bloomed outward from the incision.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Keep going," the man guided, his voice sounding right next to her ear.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>So Yachi did. She traced a line down his stomach, stopping just above his crotch. Blood splashed with a wet noise as the butcher reached over her short stature to pull the flaps of his abdomen apart.</em>
</p><p>I'm so hungry, <em>Yachi thought drowsily, watching the butcher pull the boy's intestines out. They fell to the floor with slick slaps.</em> <em>She stared down at the organs, lowering herself into a squat to get a better look.</em> So these are what a person's insides look like... <em>Deep down, she knew she should have been horrified. But whatever terror she felt had been replaced with that burning desire to consume the long, winding intestine she now clutched in her hands.</em></p><p>
  <em>"Be patient." Yachi whined when the butcher yanked the organ away from her. "I'll let you eat soon."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>After squeezing out excrement from his small intestine, he ripped apart the boy's body, snapping bones and tendons with his bare hands. It was the rawest display of power that Yachi had ever laid eyes on in her short life, and an instinct she had not felt since she entered suddenly snapped through her body like lightning. Her knees knocking together, she stood and ran.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Quickly, she scuttled up the stairs, toward salvation, a bellowing bull-like roar sounding in the background.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Her fingers grazed the top step.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Then her head snapped backward as the butcher grabbed one of her pigtails and yanked. Yachi's screams were cut off when one humongous hand clamped over her face. She struggled against his body, but he did not budge.</em>
</p><p><em>"Don't go, little girl," he told her, dragging her back down into the basement. "You haven't </em>eaten <em>yet."</em></p><hr/><p>
  <strong>June 2018</strong>
</p><p>Kuroo disagreed with the notion that Bokuto seemed to enjoy putting forward—that his interest in true crime and the paranormal was an <em>obsession</em>. He was in the midst of some of the best years of his life—there was no harm in having a hobby that sent those wonderful chills down his spine.</p><p>They cut to an interview.</p><p>The interviewee was an old man that didn't bother to hide his face. His features were sad, the folds of his eyes drooping with an ancient sorrow. <em>"Many lives were lost that day. My granddaughter... She always smiled so brightly. She was one of the six children who suffered at the hands of the butcher. I won't even speak of his name. Hitoka,"</em> disturbingly, he began to cry, <em>"My darling sunshine Hitoka..."</em></p><p><em>The Torono Town Massacre... </em>Until tonight, Kuroo had only heard of it in passing. An entire town of three hundred people dead in one night, its residents devouring each other in a supernatural bloodlust until there was nothing left to consume. The town was abandoned, even by the very few survivors. Today, it remained a ghost town, though teenage couples did like to go explore there for the thrill.</p><p><em>Kenma and I are a teenage couple!</em> Kuroo grinned as he contemplated the idea. Technically, they were both in their early twenties, but good enough. Searching online for any guided tours, he found none. He did, however, dig up a downloadable audio tour. He downloaded it on his phone, and messaged the link to Kenma so he could enjoy listening as well.</p><p>Switching off the lights, he retreated to the bedroom, curling up against Kenma's form in bed. "Hey," he rumbled, propping his chin on Kenma's arm. "I know you're awake."</p><p>Kenma stirred. "Yes, Kuro?"</p><p>"Why don't we hit Torono Town tomorrow?" He placed kisses down his bicep. "Just you and me."</p><p>His boyfriend groaned, twisting around to burying his face in Kuroo's chest. "Seriously? This Torono Town stuff again? Is it <em>that</em> interesting?"</p><p>"Come on, pleaseee? It's no fun to visit alone. And you should take a break from streaming."</p><p>Kenma sat up and stared at Kuroo, his golden eyes glowing ethereally in the dark. Kuroo's breath caught in his throat, entranced by the brilliance of his gaze. "Alright," he conceded, a small smile on his face. "Let's go. Who knows? You might find out something interesting about yourself."</p><p>"Yes!" Kuroo squeezed him in a tight hug, their legs tangling together. "You're the best."</p><p>"Yeah, yeah. Remember—you wanted this, not me. If anything happens, you're taking full responsibility for it."</p><p>"Aww—believe in ghosts, do ya?"</p><p>"It's not a belief," Kenma's disembodied voice sounded in the dark. His hand landed lightly on Kuroo's back as they hugged. "Sleep tight."</p><p>Kuroo chuckled, the sound low and warm as their heads hit the pillows. "I love you, Kenma."</p><p>In response, Kenma simply squeezed his hand.</p><hr/><p>The next day, Kuroo and Kenma stepped off the bullet train in Sendai. They were dressed in casual clothes—Kuroo wearing a grey t-shirt and red shorts with a thin plaid outer garment with its sleeves rolled up to the elbow. Despite it being a warm summer day, Kenma had chosen to wear a plain white hoodie and jeans.</p><p>"Pole," Kuroo said as he guided Kenma out of the way. The younger man was fixated on his phone. "Come on, put that away. We're getting a taxi to Torono. You can't keep looking at your phone all the time."</p><p>"Yes I can."</p><p>"Kenma, <em>no</em>."</p><p>They flagged down a taxi and got in.</p><p>"Where to?" asked the driver.</p><p>"Torono Town," Kuroo answered, leaning back into the seat.</p><p>The driver sighed. "I was hoping you wouldn't say that. That place gives me the creeps."</p><p>"Hear that, Kenma?" Kuroo elbowed his boyfriend. "It already sounds promising."</p><p>From his rear-view mirror, the driver narrowed his eyes, seemingly flummoxed by his reaction. Then he shook his head and said, "Kids these days. Alright, I'll take ya there, but when we arrive... Get off immediately. I don't wanna spend a second too long there. Got it?"</p><p>They nodded, and the journey to Torono began.</p><p>Having woken up early, Kenma dozed off in the trip, leaving Kuroo to stare out the window in pensive silence. It was summer, and the leaves were bright and green, shifting and swaying with the breeze that he couldn't feel. His fingers tapped on his thigh occasionally, his other hand holding Kenma's one.</p><p>It was early afternoon when the taxi rolled to a stop along a lonely stretch of road. The driver peered around his headrest. "Alright, outcha go."</p><p>Kuroo poked Kenma's cheek. "Oi, wake up. We're here."</p><p>Kenma's eyes fluttered open. "Already?" He yawned. "Alright, let's go..."</p><p>They exited the car, but the driver didn't leave straightaway. Instead, he gazed at them with wary eyes. Kuroo gave him a nod before he finally did a three-point turn and zoomed off back to the bustling city.</p><p>Nearby, a crow called, perched on an abandoned building.</p><p>"Where to first?" Kenma inquired.</p><p>Kuroo put his earphones in, the wire already attached to his phone. "Wherever Narrator-san decides to take us."</p><p>Kenma did the same with his headphones. "'Kay."</p><p>The streets they walked were stained with an old brown substance.</p><p>In Kuroo's ears, a voice crackled to life.</p><p>
  <em>"To the north is Karasuno High School—"</em>
</p><p>Kuroo paused it. "First up's Karasuno High."</p><p>Kenma didn't answer, but Kuroo saw him following closely from his peripheral.</p><p>The first location was a mess. It was clear that the building had been ransacked at some point, the gates wide open for anyone to enter. "Well," Kuroo began as they halted at the entrance, giving Kenma a sidelong glance. With an impish grin on his face, he held out his hand to Kenma as if he were offering him a dance. "Shall we?"</p><p>With fingers intertwined, they stepped into the school grounds.</p><p>There was something haunting about the place—the strewn chairs and desks, the half-marked moldy test papers they found in the faculty room. As if something had made everyone in the school drop what they were doing and evacuate. The walls were stained with the same brown on the sidewalk—old blood. There were no bodies or clothes—everything had been cleaned up by the teams the government had deployed all those years ago.</p><p>"Karasuno," Kuroo said, almost dreamily. "I wonder what things the people here could've achieved if they'd lived. Maybe they could've been great."</p><p>"Maybe," said Kenma, noncommittally.</p><p>"I—<em>shit</em>!" Kuroo suddenly swore, grabbing Kenma and hugging him close. Then he relaxed slightly, staring at a blank spot in the hallway.</p><p>"Kuro?"</p><p>"I..." He swallowed. "I thought I saw a little kid." The tiny person was seared into his brain, making his heart race. It had been a little boy—with a mop of blond hair and bandages over his eyes.</p><p>Kenma looked around, confused. "I don't see anyone."</p><p>"It was probably just my imagination..."</p><p>Kenma tugged at Kuroo's wrist. "Let's go. We've seen enough of this place."</p><p>As they journeyed on, Kuroo's stomach felt like it was going to curl in on itself.</p><p><em>"To your right is the abandoned Shimada Mart,"</em> the recording spat out, static stinging his ears. <em>"At popular grocer that the locals all shopped at. Shimada-san's business began to decline when the Torono Killer set up his butchery a few streets down."</em></p><p>Shimada Mart's rusted logo—a pig being cut into pieces—beamed joyfully down at them.</p><p>He felt his belly rumble. Blinking, Kuroo looked down at himself. <em>I'm already hungry? </em>That was weird—he'd had a big breakfast and had eaten a doughnut at Sendai's train station.</p><p>
  <em>"And finally... If you keep walking straight for ten minutes, you'll find yourself in front of—"</em>
</p><p>"The killer's shop," Kenma said, glancing up at the debilitated sign.</p><p>"Creepy," commented Kuroo, peering through the dusty window.</p><p>Kenma didn't say anything else for a while—just stared into the shop with a filmy glaze over his eyes.</p><p>Kuroo opened his mouth to say something, but bit down on his tongue painfully when he spotted the reflection of young green-haired boy with his neck split open in the shop window. Then he blinked, and the apparition disappeared.</p><p><em>"Step inside,"</em> crooned the recording, crackling abruptly. <em>"Walk into the staff room."</em></p><p>Kuroo's legs moved on autopilot.</p><p>Something wet dripped from his mouth, and he lifted a hand to brush it aside.</p><p><em>Saliva? </em>Kuroo gawked at the liquid on his hand. <em>What the fuck? </em>He slapped himself in the face. <em>Get it together! What's wrong with you?</em></p><p>He walked to the back of the shop and turned left, where the staff room sign taunted him with its faded red paint.</p><p>
  <em>"Walk inside, Tetsurou."</em>
</p><p>Kuroo obeyed, silent as a ghost.</p><p>A set of stairs greeted him.</p><p>
  <em>"Go downstairs."</em>
</p><p>Once more, he obeyed, his eyes clouded and dull.</p><p>
  <em>"You'll find yourself in the butcher's basement. These chambers are where the Torono Killer murdered the six original children, using their flesh and bones to beckon the residents of Torono into human meat addiction."</em>
</p><p>Letting out a low moan, Kuroo knelt, clutching his aching head. Clearly—he could clearly see it in front of him. The butcher's sweaty, panicked face as he launched himself down the stairs. His boots splashed in blood as he dashed toward a large vat full of bubbling, hissing oil. With blood-caked hands, he grabbed a stepladder. The ladder wobbled beneath his weight, and the butcher put his hands on the burning hot iron of the tank, indifferent to how the skin on his palms blistered and bubbled.</p><p>Police officers burst into the basement, flying down the stairs with a vicious fury.</p><p>The butcher looked back over his shoulder once, eyes wild, before he threw himself into the vat.</p><p>Following his gaze, Kuroo saw five children—the boy with bandages over his eyes, the one with his throat ripped apart, a blonde girl with bones for hands, an orange-haired boy with stitches circling his neck and disappearing down his neckline, and a black-haired boy with scars beginning from the corners of his lips and curling upward like a smile—looking on with nothing but fury and scorn in their eyes.</p><p><em>"KUROO!"</em> someone roared.</p><p>And all was black.</p><hr/><p>When Kuroo awoke again, the sun was beginning to set. Groaning, he sat up, the orange sunlight blinding him momentarily. <em>Where am I...?</em></p><p>"You fainted."</p><p>That was Kenma's voice.</p><p>His head throbbing, he looked up to see Kenma standing over him. He held out a hand, which Kuroo took with no hesitation.</p><p>"You just blacked out in front of the shop," explained Kenma, brow furrowing. "Kuro..."</p><p>"I saw them," Kuroo breathed. "The five children. And the butcher. He <em>killed</em> himself." His legs trembled slightly, but he got them under control soon enough. "Come on—I wanna go home. This place..." His stomach turned. "It makes me sick."</p><p>"I told you so," Kenma murmured, placing one hand on his back. "I'm sorry, Kuro."</p><p><em>For what? </em>he wanted to ask, but the energy to inquire failed him.</p><p>For now, all he wanted to do was sleep for the next hundred years.</p><hr/><p>Kuroo had lost track of the years he had known Kenma. They'd met as childhood friends, and their friendship had continued onto high school. For whatever reason, Kenma had always pushed people away. He never acknowledged anyone else except Kuroo, and nobody ever acknowledged Kenma except him. And, Kuroo supposed, Kenma's fans.</p><p>After becoming lovers with Kenma, Kuroo only ended up keeping one friend for some reason—Bokuto Koutarou.</p><p>"You're so weird, bro," Bokuto had said one time. "But I kinda like that, hey hey hey!"</p><p>In his own opinion, there was nothing that strange about him. He was just a college student with a passion for creepy things.</p><p>
  <em>Weird... I'm not weird. Then why...?</em>
</p><p>Kuroo stood hunched in front of the open refrigerator in the dead of night, the blue light shining on his sallow face. He had not eaten properly for three days—hadn't eaten properly since the day he'd visited Torono Town. There was a pack of unopened bacon that looked oddly appealing.</p><p>
  <em>Why am I doing this?</em>
</p><p>Breathing heavily, he tore the package apart before he even got to the kitchen counter. His belly pleading desperately for food, he shoveled the processed meat into his mouth, praying to the gods that Kenma would not awake and find him like this.</p><p>He finished the lot in five minutes, but his hunger still persisted. The taste of the bacon was bland and heavy on his tongue—spitting, he washed his mouth out under the tap, a gross feeling crawling under his skin.</p><p>The only light in the kitchen was the blue glow of the still-open refrigerator.</p><p>Then, starting to sob, he sunk into a huddle against the kitchen counter, his entire body quivering.</p><p>Why was he so hungry?</p><p>So hungry... for something that he hadn't even tasted before?</p><hr/><p>Before he knew it, college had restarted again.</p><p>"Remember," Kuroo reminded Kenma cheerfully before he left, makeup underneath his eyes to hide the evidence of sleepless nights. "Don't feed the trolls!"</p><p>"Kuro, I've been doing this for years now," Kenma deadpanned, even when the corner of his lips quirked upward. "I'll see you in a few hours."</p><p>"Yep." It took every ounce of energy he had to keep the tiredness from seeping into his voice.</p><p>The moment he closed the door to their shared apartment behind him, he released a sigh. <em>What's going on me...?</em></p><p>He had lost too much weight for it to be healthy. Most of his muscles had become more debilitated than he would've liked, and every time he stood, he felt dizziness overtaking him.</p><p>"Kuroo-san?"</p><p>Kuroo turned to see his neighbor, a beautiful raven-haired woman named Yamato Hina, gazing at him with concern. She was in her late twenties, just a few years older than him. From what he knew, she worked as an accountant for a sports shoe company.</p><p>"Are you okay?" Yamato asked, reaching her arms up to fix her hairbun. "You look ill."</p><p>Kuroo pushed himself to stand up straighter. "I'm fine," he tried to reassure the good woman, unable to take his eyes off her form. Suddenly, the woman in front of him wasn't a person—she almost resembled the cuts of bacon he had ripped into all those nights ago. Horrified, and more than a little embarrassed, he stared at the ground instead.</p><p>But Yamato didn't seem too troubled. "If you ever feel sick, please don't hesitate to knock on my door, okay?"</p><p>"Right. Thank you, Yamato-san."</p><hr/><p>He tried drinking some coffee on the way to school, but ended up purging his belly of its contents in a public toilet stall instead. Pale and slick with sweat, Kuroo weakly washed his hands and exited the restroom.</p><p><em>Shit... </em>He probably looked as good as he felt. <em>I'm so hungry...</em></p><p>Kuroo returned home from university after the sun set. Feeling like skin and bones, he didn't dare glance at the mirror when he went to shower, and came out in fresh clothes without seeing his reflection either.</p><p>Kenma was at his computer as always. Briefly, Kuroo felt a twinge of annoyance—even after such a dramatic weight loss, Kenma still wasn't showing a hint of concern over him? One part of him wanted to call out to him angrily, but the bigger part yearned for nothing except sustenance.</p><p>Like a zombie, Kuroo wandered to the fridge again, feeling sick at the sight of salami and bacon. He was certain his body craved meat, and his mind went somewhere deep and dark and horrifying—the butcher's grotesque expression as he tossed himself into the oil, the vengeful stares of the children—</p><p>A thud sounded out in the hallway, and then a voice sounded.</p><p>"Yes... Yes sir, I understand. I'll come to the office early tomorrow morning. Yes... Alright, I can do that. Thank you, sir. No, Miyuki-san doesn't need the report until Monday, so I can work on it tonight."</p><p><em>Yamato-san, </em>Kuroo realized with more excitement than was warranted, rushing toward the front door.</p><p><em>Go on, </em>a voice whispered in his ear. <em>You can do it. Just a nibble.</em></p><p><em>NO! </em>Kuroo's hand hovered above the doorknob. <em>No, like hell... Like hell I'll actually </em>eat <em>another person!</em></p><p>The thought of it was so wrong, yet so <em>right</em>.</p><p><em>Don't fight it, </em>he felt lips ghost his cheek as something whispered sweet, honeyed words in his ear. <em>Tetsurou... It's time... You did well...</em></p><p>He opened the door and shuffled toward Yamato's. She didn't notice him as she opened the door to her apartment, carrying in her arms some paper grocery bags that were almost falling. Yamato practically fell inside toward her kitchen counter so that her groceries would be safe. The door wide open, Kuroo let himself in.</p><p>"Yes," Yamato was still saying into her phone, palming an orange in her other hand. "I'll keep that in mind, sir."</p><p>As if it were the most natural thing in the world, Kuroo grabbed a knife from the holder by the sink, his eyes fixed on the nape of her neck.</p><p><em>Do it,</em> the voices echoed around the whole room, Kuroo's eyes glowing brightly in the dark as he lifted the blade with one shivering hand. <em>Do it, Tetsurou. It's time to eat. Just like him.</em></p><p><em>NO! </em>Quietly, he started to sob, tears running down his face and his neck.</p><p>
  <em>YES!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I CAN'T!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But I love you, Tetsurou.</em>
</p><p>Yamato turned around just in time for Kuroo to plunge the knife in her heart. "A... Ah..." Blood dripped from her mouth as she slumped, bashing the side of her skull on the kitchen floor. "K... Kuro... o...</p><p>
  <em>Again.</em>
</p><p>Kuroo wrenched the knife out.</p><p>
  <em>Again.</em>
</p><p>And sank it in her chest.</p><p>
  <em>AGAIN!</em>
</p><p>"STOP!" Kuroo exploded, sobbing. "I'm not like this! I'm not! SHUT UP!"</p><p>Yamato was dead before the police arrived, courtesy of a terrified neighbor.</p><p>"KENMA!" Kuroo writhed beneath the grip of the officers, ignoring their bellowing shouts. "KENMA!</p><p>
  <em>"KENMAAAAA!"</em>
</p><hr/><p>The institute was dull.</p><p>The room that they sat in even more so. Kuroo, unable to do anything except sit in his straitjacket, met the stare of the woman sitting opposite him, his eyes wide and bloodshot. His hair was flat and matted and swept to the right.</p><p>"Kuroo-san," the woman said softly. She was the third psychologist to come and see him. "Why don't you tell me about your family?"</p><p>Silence stretched between them.</p><p>"Your mother? Father?" she prompted, not unkindly.</p><p>"My mom died in a house fire with my grandparents," Kuroo told her eventually. "Only me and Kenma made it out."</p><p>"Kenma," mused the woman, flipping through her notes. <em>No mention of his father. I'm not surprised, considering who he is...</em> "My colleagues have told me that you've mentioned this name many times."</p><p>"Of course!" Kuroo exclaimed, defensive. "He's my best friend and my lover. I've known him for <em>years</em>."</p><p>She tilted her head, curious. "And what is his full name?"</p><p>"Kozume Kenma."</p><p>The woman—Noroikawa—penned the name down. "Thank you."</p><p>Kuroo smirked, the action a little wild. "I'm not crazy, you know. I'm not. I didn't kill her 'cause I'm crazy." He barked a laugh. "You know that, right?"</p><p>"Of course," Noroikawa said, false sympathy sugaring her tone.</p><p>"The voices told me to. They said they loved me. I know it sounds insane, but it's <em>real</em>."</p><p>"Of course," she repeated with the same tone.</p><p>Kuroo shifted in his seat. "Can I see Kenma? It's been weeks. I <em>need</em> to see Kenma. <em>Please</em>."</p><p>Noroikawa checked her notes again. He had asked multiple officers as well as her colleagues for this 'Kenma'. "Very well," she conceded, "I'll see what I can do."</p><p>They talked more about his past until Noroikawa stood.</p><p>"Where're you going?" Kuroo asked.</p><p>"To find out more about this Kenma you keep asking for. I'll be back soon enough."</p><p>Kuroo nodded, smiling weakly. "Thank you."</p><p>Once she was gone, the room fell into dead silence. Kuroo, with hooded eyelids, stared at the wooden table in front of him. <em>I'm not crazy, </em>he repeated in his head. <em>I'm not. I'm not. Kenma will believe me. He has over ten million Yootube subscribers, right? He'll bail me out. Kenma loves me. Kenma</em>—</p><p>"Hello, Kuro."</p><p>Kuroo's head snapped upward to see Kenma sitting right in front of him. He hadn't even seen him come in. "Kenma!" Kuroo almost <em>cried</em>. "Oh my god, Kenma. You'll never believe it, but... I swear, I swear I didn't want to kill her—!"</p><p>"Shh..." Kenma held a finger in front of Kuroo's lips. "I know, you don't have to tell me."</p><p>This time, he did cry. "You... You believe me?"</p><p>"Of course I do."</p><p>If he hadn't been restrained in his straitjacket, Kuroo would have leaped across the table to hug the love of his life. "Kenma, thank you—!"</p><p>"Haha. <em>Kidding</em>."</p><p>Kuroo froze, staring at Kenma's gleeful expression in utter disbelief. "Wh... What?"</p><p>"You could've fought me off, you know," Kenma murmured, climbing on the table to sit with his legs crossed in front of Kuroo. "You could've chosen not to listen."</p><p>Kuroo twitched. "What're you talking about?!"</p><p>"You still don't get it?" Kenma inched closer until their noses were touching. "Do it. Do it. Again. Again."</p><p>Realization dawned upon him. "That voice... That voice—"</p><p>"Was <em>me</em>." Kenma slid down the table in a manner that was purely feline, pacing slowly around the white room. "I bet he said the same thing to justify the killing." He lifted his hand in front of his face as he walked, clenching it. "But killing isn't justified. I still remember... What he did to me."</p><p>"No." Kuroo bit his lip so hard that he drew blood. He tried to stand, but only ended up falling against the table. "No, Kenma, please...! <em>Please don't do this to me, Kenma! Why?!</em>"</p><p>"Why? I still remember," Kenma said aloud, stopping to observe how Kuroo squirmed on the table, desperate. "What <em>Kuroo Inoshi</em> did to me.</p><p>"Maybe a part of me still hoped... That you would be different."</p><p>"But I love you!" Kuroo pleaded, because it was all he had left. "Kenma!"</p><p>"I guess I was wrong. But at least now, in here, you'll be left to rot. My friends and I," Kenma smiled, relieved, "Can finally rest in peace. Kuro..."</p><p>"Kuroo," Noroikawa said, and Kuroo startled in his chair, blinking at his surroundings. Kenma was gone, and he was still seated in the same position as before. The woman pushed her glasses up, pity in her blue eyes. "I don't know how to tell you this, but... Your friend, Kozume Kenma..."</p><p>Kuroo gazed blankly at her.</p><p>"Passed away in 2004."</p><p>
  <em>Slam!</em>
</p><p>Blood sprayed and Noroikawa screamed in terror as she watched Kuroo repeatedly bash his head against the table. "Guards!" she shouted, and they rushed inside to restrain him.</p><p>"Kenma!" was the only thing he would say, blood dripping a gash on his head. "Kenma! Kenma! KENMA!</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>"KENMAAAA!"</em>
  </strong>
</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>Epilogue</strong>
</p><p>Kenma opened his eyes to see Hinata's beaming face. He glanced down at his tiny, child-sized hands. Children's laughter reached his ears, and he turned to see Yachi giggling as she jumped for the ball that Kageyama had threw.</p><p>"Got it, got it!" Yachi cheered, using her skeletal hands to lift the dusty volleyball.</p><p>"Kenma!" Hinata hugged him. "You're back! I missed you."</p><p>Content, Kenma closed his eyes. "I missed you, too, Shouyou."</p><p>The town was empty, save for them. Would be, for the rest of eternity.</p><p>At his arrival, Yamaguchi and Tsukishima poked their heads out from the optometrist on the opposite side of the road. Yamaguchi led the way to where he and Hinata were standing, holding Tsukishima's hand.</p><p><em>Tsukki</em>, Yamaguchi wrote on Tsukishima's hand, <em>Kenma's back.</em></p><p>"I know," the blond boy said. "I heard shortie yelling before you did. Kenma... Is he dead?"</p><p>Kenma shook his head, and Tsukishima soured for an instant, his eye bandages bloodying up, before relaxing once more when Kenma revealed, "He's suffering a fate worse than death."</p><p>Tsukishima grunted. "Good enough, then."</p><p>"You wanna play volleyball with Yacchan and Bakageyama?" Hinata bounced excitedly on the balls of his feet, his shirt lifting up with each bounce to reveal crude sutures keeping his torso from opening up.</p><p>Kenma shrugged. "Sure."</p><p>"Great!" Hinata held his hand and led him toward Yachi and Kageyama, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi flanking them.</p><p>Briefly, Kenma glanced backward at the horizon where he knew Tokyo and Kuroo were. <em>Was it worth it? </em>he asked himself. <em>Was it really fair for Tetsurou to be punished because of what his father did? </em>Ignoring Hinata's confused glance when he stopped walking, Kenma lifted his shirt up to stare at his empty chest cavity. <em>Love... I've never known it. But with Tetsurou... I almost felt whole again.</em></p><p>Then he looked up at the smiling faces of his friends, their rage gone, and the heavy feeling dissipated.</p><p>"Let's play, Shouyou," he said, relishing in Hinata's grin.</p><p>In what had once been Torono Town, the sixth child rejoined the other five. And, together, they played without a care in the world.</p><p>Tinkling laughter echoed throughout the empty town in the late afternoon.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N: There's not really a specific message in this story. I just wanted to write something more on the horror/gore side, ig. In the end, neither of them really ended up happy. So, I guess what I'm trying to say is that this story is just a void of needless suffering :D</p></blockquote></div></div>
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